I saw a UFO!
by EpsilonPax
Summary: What began as a single one-shot, is now a short collection of stories involving Annabelle and her encounters with aliens: Autobot, Decepticon and more! Rated for the mild language of a teenage Annabelle.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Set pre-DOTM and pre-ROTF; this is taken from a longer work in progress (hopefully it will be appearing here soon!) and was an amusing idea that snuck up on me. Nothing but fluff and stuff. Enjoy! ~~~Epsilon **

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, I, regrettably own nothing (but hey, if I ever win the lotto that could change! muahahahaha!)**

Shuffling the last pages of paperwork into a wayward file, Lennox suppressed a yawn. It never ceased to amaze him just how much pointless—and needless to say limitless—paperwork that Galloway was devilishly adept at drumming up for both Elena and himself. The perpetual task of filling out forms had always stuck the Major as not only as a waste of time, but also as a waste of resources—just think of all the trees that went into making said obnoxious little forms!—and a waste of his patience. This time a resigned sigh managed to escape him as he looked up into the optic lenses of the Autobot leader. It was bad enough that Lennox had to sit through the annoyance of paperwork, but what set his temper on edge was the knowledge that Galloway's forms seemed to be deliberately calibrated so that Elena and Lennox were both forced to involve the Autobot Leader in their pencil pushing sessions. It was this nuance that made Lennox despise said deskwork—not that he didn't like spending time with Optimus—it was just that he knew Optimus' time—an already valuable commodity—was much better spent elsewhere.

"Do not become discouraged, Major."

"I'm sorry Big Man, but its hard not to. It just feels like Galloway and his minions are getting closer and closer to finding a legal means of forcing you and the Autobots into giving them your weaponry technology. And this—"here Lennox emphatically shook the stack of files at Optimus, "—Doesn't feel like it's helping much."

"I trust that your endeavors are not in vain."

Tucking the file under his arm, Lennox lifted a brow and wondered sincerely if the Autobot's had anything like paperwork back on Cybertron. However, whatever snarky retort Lennox could have invented was safely snatched away by a cheerful, girlish shout that echoed over to them.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy! Guess what!" Jubilant, Lennox's daughter bounced up and down in Bumblebee's palm as the cheerful yellow Autobot carried her over.

"Hey JellyBelly." Instantly a smile graced the worn soldier's features as he beheld his daughter, all giggles and sunshine from atop her decidedly alien perch. His daughter and wife's presence on base was one of the few—if only—bright points of his day—nothing against the guys, Elena or even the 'bots—and seeing Annabelle now, so happy and carefree, lifted Lennox's spirits. Annabelle continued to giggle as Bumblebee moved to join them; with one of her tiny arms wrapped around one of the yellow scout's digits and the other firmly fastened around a fluffy, stuffed toy bumblebee, she seemed to be the picture of happiness.

Hardly able to contain her excitement, Annabelle jumped up and down in Bumblebee's palm: "Down bumbee! Down, down, down bumbee!" She squeaked in her eagerness. As soon as he complied, Annabelle scampered over to her father who was quick to sweep her up into his waiting arms. Lennox enjoyed the moment, hugging his daughter, his pride and joy, with the fierce love of a father—how much he hated it when he was separated from his family! With the short attention span of a typical still small child, Annabelle wrapped her arms around her Daddy's neck, returning his hug before repeating her request that he "guessed what!"

Setting her down on the ground, Lennox pointed towards Optimus, "Hey, manners first, kiddo! You forgot somebody!"

Just as eagerly, Annabelle turned her beaming smile towards the Autobot Leader, "Hi Otmus!"

Solemnly, Prime inclined his head at the young child, "Hello, little one. Bumblebee tells me that you have something of importance that you wish to share with us."

Taking a moment to pause over his words, Annabelle bobbed her head, "yes, yes, yes!" Faster than he expected her to, Lennox watched as his daughter darted towards Prime, latching onto the paneling on his leg and shaking it—or rather endeavoring to do so, as if she truly could move such a titanic being—in the fashion she would have tugged on her father's shirt, "Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!" Through it all, Optimus looked down at her mildly.

"There are an infinite of possibilities that 'what' could be, little one."

Confused, Annabelle tilted her head backward, still hanging onto the bright flame decal panel of Optimus' ankle for leverage as she looked back at her Daddy, now upside down, for help.

"You gotta give us a hint, Jellybelly."

Wordlessly her mouth formed in a yawning 'O' shape as she considered, but once more enthusiasm was quick to take the reigns, "You gotta guess!"

"C'mon Jellybelly, tell us."

A long, drawn out moment of a considering, "Mmmmmmm…."before she at last conceded to an, "Kkkkkk!" In a whiplash like movement—Lennox's own neck ached just watching her—Annabelle snapped her head up so that she could now look at Optimus right side up as she exclaimed, "Me and Bumbee saw a UFO!"

Not understanding the thick silence that so swiftly descended between them, and oblivious to the sudden tenseness in her Daddy's stance as his gaze flew to the Autobot Leader's, Annabelle instead sought to explain, "Otmus, that means me and Bumbee saw an…an…un-eye-dent-ee-fried flying object! It was soooo cooool! I saw it first!"

"Indeed, little one? That is quite a discovery." Lennox couldn't help but admire the even and seemingly unperturbed tone that Optimus addressed Annabelle in; particularly since Lennox's heart rate—to say nothing of his blood pressure—had decidedly kicked up a notch or two within the last few minutes. Decepticons? More Autobots? Or an entirely new race? Lennox didn't want to dwell on the possibilities.

Preening under the praise, Annabelle at last let go of Optimus, instead readjusting her hold on her favored stuffed bumblebee toy, tucking it securely beneath her chin as she hugged it tightly. She looked up at the great countenance before her with wide wondering eyes as she addressed him seriously, "Do you think one day I'll get to meet a real alien?"

Optimus—Lennox had to give him credit—never hesitated, "Perhaps one day, little one."

This was apparently the right answer as it incited another wide grin from Annabelle, "That's what Bumbee said, too!"


	2. New Encounters

**A/N: To be brief, those readers familiar with the stories both Bumbee and I have written know that when it comes to our version of Annabelle the only thing consistent about her age in relation to actual movie-verse cannon is that there is no consistency. This, while indeed related to the previous one-shot, takes place a number of years later. Here, Annabelle is in high school, and has a brief encounter with alien life that is something other than Cybertronian ( though to reveal much more would be to give away too much of the story.) So one last note, Bumbee and I also mention our OC Elena here, for more back ground info on her please visit our profile page. **

**Now...Enough chatter! Onward! **

**~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee**

**P.S. Please R&R, it makes us ever so happy when you do! **

**Disclaimer: As always Hasbro gets everything, Bumbee and I nada. **

**###**

Really, it was beautiful.

Beautiful in a terrifying sort of way.

Standing there surrounded by classmates, Annabelle just watched. Watched as the burning streak ripped open the soft under belly of the summer night sky. Oblivious to the quiet world that lay below, the concoction of illumination danced; arrogant in it's blatancy, it moved with a purpose. Bisecting the heavenly globe, twin tails of orange followed it as it flew, perfectly parallel to the earth. Then it stopped, suddenly, almost violently it lingered, hovered, uncertain? Waiting? Listening? Looking?

"What the hell is-" A soft male voice, high pitched with fear, interrupted the thick silence. Beside her, Annabelle could almost hear one of her friends gulp. Risking a glance earthward Annabelle took stock of the frightened faces around her, tongues of light from their campfire flickering, elusive across the forested scene; half-constructed tents, plastic bags spilling marshmallows and Graham crackers, hotdogs and chips, all forgotten in the sudden appearance of...what?

A sharp, sudden intake, muttered exclamations of:

"Holy crap-!"

"Lookit-!"

Annabelle's attention snapped up to watch as the pulsating globe of light suddenly shifted, up, up, up, shrinking. Now it was small enough to fit comfortably in her palm, now just a pin-prick of starlight, now...now...gone.

There was the soft whoosh of held breaths being let go. Tense gazes darted from face to face, relief bonding them together. There was a bated pause before an explosion of voices, words clamoring together, all tinted with the aftertaste of fear.

"Did you see that?"

"Oh man-"

"What was it-?"

One voice, Annabelle didn't know whose, cut above the din, exclaiming what lingered on the tip of everyone's tongue but no one dared to voice.

"Dude...dude...U.F.O!"

Another wave of voices rose, surging, powerfully tipped with mixing emotions.

"Aliens!"

"-C'mon little green men?"

"No, dude, U.F.O !"

"You serious-?"

"-The truth, man, it's out there!"

"-that was totally a space ship-"

"-definitely an alien warship-"

"-end of days, dude, end of days-!"

"-oh c'mon-!"

"-maybe just a military helicopter-?"

"-military conspiracy!"

"-remember those aliens back in L.A-!"

Annabelle was shocked that not one individual present was ready or willing to shrug off the mysterious flying light. But then again neither was she. The sweet dew of the grass clung to her bare ankles as she began to take small, careful steps backward, her hand slipping into her thin, summer jacket pocket for her cell phone. Just as she was edging away from the gathered group of teens, she felt a pull at her elbow. Already on edge from a vastly different kind of worry, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the feather light touch.

Annabelle turned fast enough to make her ankles ache in protest. No forest creature or little green alien-though Annabelle knew better than to expect the latter-waited for her, rather it was another girl from her class. Annabelle knew her by sight rather than name: Leah? Leila? Linda? She couldn't be sure, aside from recognizing her as one of the more popular girls in her grade level and one of the people who had helped to organize this bonfire event, Annabelle had never actually spoken with her before.

"Hey," the other ventured cautiously, "You're the one whose dad is in the army right?"

Annabelle narrowed her eyes, fingertips brushing over the keypad of her cell phone impatiently. So that's who she was to most people in the school; the kid with a dad in the army. Not that she was complaining, anonymity suited Annabelle just fine.

"Yeah, my Dad is in the military..." _...And is a untouchably high ranking officer...with more influence than you could imagine...oh and who also happens to work with a super advanced-_

Annabelle's snarky thought went unfinished as her companion spoke up again,"-Sweet, do you think you could, I dunno, text him or something-?"

Annabelle reflexively lifted an eyebrow, luckily the darkness concealed her skepticism; so, she was actually concerned with what could very likely, actually have been signs of alien contact-

"-maybe see if your dad can't pull some strings to make sure that wasn't, like, a police helicopter? It's just that we have a bunch of beers and stuff and it would suck if we got caught..."

_So much for an interest in aliens._

Annabelle suppressed a sigh, "Yeah, sure thing, I'll just head up to higher ground to get better reception." Without a further word, Annabelle plunged directly into the surrounding tree line, away from the buzz of chatter. As she retreated she heard the other girl call back to the group, carefree again, "Its all good guys, that chick's dad is in the army and is going to call off any cops that might be snooping around-"

For a fleeting moment Annabelle felt the bite of jealousy, wishing she could share in her classmate's relief. But, as her Dad-and countless uncles, both actual and honorary-had taught her to, Annabelle took a handful of deep breaths to both calm her buzzing nerves and focus on the moment, on what she had to do.

Observe.

Analyze.

Report.

Annabelle leaned gratefully against the rough bark of a tree, out of sight and ear shot from the bonfire pit, drumming her fingertips anxiously against her leg as she pressed her cell phone to her ear, listening to the hollow rings.

_Please pick up, please pick up..._

When it went into her Dad's voicemail, she hung up without leaving a message, quick to punch in her Uncle Epps' number next. When she was again greeted by voicemail- " 'Sup, this is Bobby's phone, if it's important leave a message, if not, don't worry about it"-she again hung up. Speed dialing first her Mom, then her Auntie Elena yielded the same results: no answer.

Chewing her lip, Annabelle scrolled through her contact list, skipping straight to the coded names: BB, Jackie, Ratch, Uncle Hide, 'Sides... She ticked through the list carefully, weighing each name. It was only because something about those lights she had seen-the way they had lingered, deliberate, considering-that bothered her, set her nerves on edge, and made her want to, need to, tell someone now, that she selected the last name on the list and punched the call button.

First ring...

_Please, please, please pick up..._

Second ring...

_He'd answer, he would, he always did..._

Third ring...

_He always was there for her, never too busy to listen, so he would answer, he just had to..._

Fourth ring...

Dread began to fill the pit of her stomach, and just as she was beginning to imagine a hundred horrible things that could keep him from answering she heard it, the faint click on the other end of the line as someone answered her call.

Annabelle didn't wait, the words tumbled out before she could stop them, "Papa Bot? You need to get here right away I saw a UFO and I think it might be a Decepticon scout and, and-"

"Easy, little one, easy."

Just like that, and she was calm. Well, calmer. "Papa Bot, I'm almost positive I saw an alien ship, maybe Decepticon, or maybe not? Or is there maybe more Autobots who you're expecting, I mean, because that would be so much better than-"

"Annabelle." A firmness to that velvet tone, asking for her to again calm herself, "Are you somewhere safe?"

"Yes, yes, but-"

"Are you in any immediate peril?"

"Well, probably not, no, but-"

"Very well, if that is the case then I would like you to take a moment to calm yourself..."

"But Papa Bot-"

"Annabelle, I cannot understand you or gain a clear grasp of what is the matter when you are this agitated-"

"I know, I know, but there was a U.F.O and-"

"Annabelle-"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I just-"

"Little one, take a moment." There was an expectant silence, so begrudgingly she stopped to take three deep breaths.

"Better?" Was that amusement in his voice? Oh no, if she just saw a Decepticon ship he did _not_ get to be _amused!_ But before she could answer with a snarky retort, he spoke up again, "Now, tell me, what has happened?"

"I think, no I _know_ I just saw a U.F.O...I think maybe a Decepticon ship..."

"-What makes you certain it was of Decepticon origin? Were you able to discern a Decepticon insignia?"

"Well no, but c'mon Papa Bot, it's either you or them, who else would it be?"

Ah, her innocence, her nativé, it moved his ancient spark, "Little one, there are other sentient beings in the wide galaxies besides Humanity and Cybertronians." He spoke gently.

"_What?"_

Hearing the note of alarm in her voice, he continued on, wishing to neither frighten her young mind nor allow her the time to dwell on such truths, "Where are you, little one?"

For the first time, she hesitated, "Just, just with some friends..."

"Do your parents know where you are?"

"They know I'm with friends..."

Which even Optimus knew meant that in all likelihood neither Lennox nor his sparkmate probably knew where their sparkling was.

"Annabelle, where are you?"

Her answering, "Welllllll..." was a long and considering one. As she drew out the syllable he quickly and efficiently tracked her cell phone signal and pinpointed her location without any difficulty.

"Remain there, little one, I am not far from your current position and will be there shortly."

For the first time that evening, Annabelle felt a surge of relief, " Thank you, Papa Bot..."


	3. Certainty

**Author's Note: Forgot to mention last chapter, this is supposed to be post DOTM! **

**~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee  
><strong>

**###  
><strong>

So...now what?

Annabelle balanced her phone in her palm thoughtfully. Squinting in the gloom she could just make out the soft orange glow of their campfire. Now, with the weight of her conversation with Optimus upon her, she didn't really want to go back. It didn't feel right, besides, how many times had her father stressed that everyone's first priority—whether they were official NEST personnel or not—was to always help the Autobots remain as unnoticed as possible. And a blue Peterbilt semi-truck with bright flame decals pulling up to a teenage campfire party was anything but subtle.

Then again, some of the people who Annabelle actually did regard as friends were back at the camp still. So, if she just disappeared into the woods, they'd notice. With a huff of frustration Annabelle plunked herself down into the damp grass, chilled fingers restlessly finding a twig and proceeding to break it into smaller fragments with a series of satisfying snaps.

She was stuck. Optimus had told her to stay put, but if she didn't go back people would notice.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

And if anything she was sure she couldn't risk her friends coming to look for her and inadvertently seeing Optimus, just as she couldn't ask him to drive up to the camp.

So...now what?

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Another sigh and Annabelle flung the bits of twig away into the carpet of grass. Rocking back and forth, she craned her neck back, back, looking up, up, up peering through the patchwork of leaves and branches towards the flashes of the night sky that peaked through.

_"Little one, there are other sentient beings in the wide galaxies besides Humanity and Cybertronians."_

The deep basso of Optimus' voice rolled through her thoughts, sending a thrill of fear skittering across her skin and taking root in her nerves. That she had seen a U.F.O had never been a doubt. She knew what she had seen, recognizing instinctively that those orange lights had not been any make or model of helicopter. She didn't care what anyone said or thought; she had seen an alien. In her young mind, once she had locked upon the conclusion of U.F.O, she had only to ask: Autobot or Decepticon.

But what if it really had been neither?

…_there are other sentient beings in the wide galaxies…_

Here was another option, new and frightening possibilities that had never dawned upon her. Ever. There were humans, there were Autobots and there were Decepticons. That was it. As plain as day and indisputable as two plus two equals four.

Optimus had seemed so casual about the notion of other beings. Annabelle had to wonder if he had personally met any of these other extraterrestrials. If there really were other beings, Annabelle found that she had a hard time believing that at some time, somewhere, along the lines of his many sojourns through space, Optimus had not met any other beings. And given how ancient the Autobot leader was, she began to accept his knowing otherworldly individuals as a certainty. Maybe that was why he had been so casual, assured sounding when he mentioned it earlier?

Or maybe it had been because he hadn't taken her seriously…

Annabelle knew that she had cried 'U.F.O' once before, she had heard the tale of innocent ignorance told, and re-told countless times by her father again and again to audiences both Human and Cybertronian. It was a favorite for many of her honorary uncles on base, how cute little Jelly Belly had looked up at Papa Bot and asked, asked so sweetly…

"…_Do you think one day I'll get to meet a real alien?" _

_Optimus—Lennox had to give him credit—never hesitated, "Perhaps one day, little one…" _

'Alien' to Annabelle, then and now was something different, something foreign, strange, unknown. Never could she compute those words with the Autobots, not with her Bumbee, her Papa Bot, her Uncle 'Hide…But that didn't matter, she had seen one then, just as she knew she had seen one now. Yet, everyone had laughed then, was Papa Bot laughing now?

The bright chirrups of a bird, the song of a nightingale floating through the darkness, soft and sweet, brought Annabelle back into the present and, more pointedly, back into her predicament. Clicking her tongue against the inside of her cheek, Annabelle continued to regard what she could see of the night sky, wondering...wondering...

...Whatever or wherever that U.F.O had been hovering over didn't seem to be far...

Emboldened by the knowledge that one of the fiercest Cybertronian warriors was on his way, Annabelle sprang up from the ground, decided. She would find where the U.F.O had been, find the location and prove that yes, yes this time she had found one and this time no one would laugh. Flicking on her phone, she winged a text message to one of her friends back at camp: _"All clear, don't worry about cops showing up. Btb, decided 2g home, my uncle is g2 pick me up."_

With one problem solved, Annabelle felt calmer, confident in her decision. After all, she would be of more use if she could at least point Optimus in the right direction of where the light had appeared rather than if she just remained where she was, sitting in the grass in the dark.

Concluding to walk around the camp so as to avoid detection, Annabelle began her trek, but had scarcely set off before she slipped, skidding into a nearby tree. The soft ground, slick with the damp of night was certainly not stable walking ground for someone in flip-flops. So, she kicked them off, relishing the whisper of grass against the soles of her feet. The pleasantly cool sensation centered her, brought her consciousness into focus and let her feel more connected to the moment, to the earth itself. Tucking her shoes into her back pocket, Annabelle promptly set off once more, working her way, careful, quiet, around and away from the camp, in a half circle.

Her heartbeat quickened, drumming against the underside of her ribs when she drew closer to the camp; close enough in fact to see the flickering orange glow of the fire through the undergrowth. It was strange to her, looking in on the gathered group this way. Snippets of conversation, splintered voices, flashes of people laughing, dancing, eating, talking all drifted over to her as if from across an insurmountable gulf. Which, she realized with not a little bitterness, wasn't far from the truth. Because of who she was, of who she knew, she could never be like them. She could never see bright lights glimmering in the heavens and playfully speculate if there was alien life out there.

She knew the answer, had lived with that knowledge, and more importantly, had helped to safe guard that knowledge all of her young life. It was her burden too, perhaps not as great of a weight as her father bore, but it was a weight for her nonetheless; one that drew that invisible and irrefutable line, divide, gulf, yawning chasm, between them and her.

As she turned away, groping for a path around the camp once more, high pitched whistles and chirps from birds rang softly in her ears. Unbidden and instantaneous, memories from her childhood flooded her.

…_Flashes of bright yellow, twin black racing stripes, bright baby blue eyes. Click, click, whistle, chirrup, whistle…_

Bee. Her Bee.

…_A frame, big and hulking, black as night at its deepest hour with a voice as rough and rich as gravel…_ Tears bit at the back of Annabelle's eyes as she remembered her Uncle 'Hide, fierce and forbidding…_and forever gone now…_

There were many other images that began to accompany her every footfall, softening a heart that had been hardened by that sudden surge of bitterness.

_Blinking sirens, glimpses of green and white. _

Everyone's favorite Doc Bot.

_An unmistakable silhouette, laced through with orange, red and blue with a voice that rumbled with the underside of thunder and velvet. _

Papa Bot.

Annabelle smiled, all traces of bitterness gone; she loved the bots, each and every one of them. They were her family, one that she could never trade for anything, not even the chance to be normal. If being abnormal was being with the Autobots, then she didn't want to be anything like normal.

Papa Bot…

Roughly she skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding smacking her head against a low flying branch.

_Papa Bot._

He was on his way…and if she knew Optimus, she also knew that he usually didn't go anywhere without at least mentioning to human personnel where he was going or what he was doing. And that 'usually' rapidly became 'always' whenever it regarded her, just as that 'human personnel' became 'Lennox-her-overprotective-father.' Annabelle swallowed thickly: in short, Optimus would tell her father that he was off to pick up a way word teenager from a bonfire party. A bonfire party she hadn't mentioned to either of her parents. A bonfire party that was taking place when she was supposed to be at a friends house studying. After Optimus told him, Lennox would respond in typical fashion…by grounding her until she was thirty…twenty-five if she was lucky.

She was doomed.

Unless…unless she could talk to Papa Bot before he talked to Lennox, but in order to do that she had to get away, as far from the camp as possible.

Now the name of the game was distance. Running as quick as she dared, Annabelle skirted the camp, moving faster than what was probably safe, wanting to find solitude so that when she called Optimus again, she wouldn't be in danger of anyone over hearing her. Preparing, she slipped her cell phone into her palm as she moved, ducking under another low swinging branch here, skipping over a thick, rising tree root there. It wasn't long before the glow of the bonfire receded, then disappeared entirely behind her. Still, she wanted to be sure and continued forward, wondering when had the ground began to slope so sharply downward? Not paying much heed, she attempted to multitask, flipping open her cell phone, trying to scroll through her contacts lists as she darted down what was little more than a deer path.

BB, Ratch, 'Sides…the names flashed by.

An errant root five steps away…

Four…

Uncle Epps, Uncle Stuart, Uncle Olsen, Uncle 'Hide…

Three steps…

Auntie Elena…

Two steps…

Papa B—

_Thwack!_

That stray root seemed to surge upward, tangling up her ankles, sending her tumbling, tossing down the now steep hillside, arms akimbo, her cell phone bouncing uselessly away as she fell, down…down…down…


	4. Realization

**Author's Note: Sorry for such a short chapter, folks! We promise the next one will follow quickly though!**

**As always, please oh pretty please R&R, really it makes our day :)  
><strong>

**~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee  
><strong>

**###  
><strong>

Silence and stillness.

In a forest teaming with life, there was too much, too much stillness; not because the nightingales had fallen silent or because the choir of insects had ceased to harmonize. No, the quiet reigned here because she was gone.

Each movement now had to be restrained, measured, calculated, muted because everything here was so very, very fragile. Shreds of moonlight that filtered through the canopy above winked off of cool flames, flames that did not burn, etched into living metal. With care, silver digits reached earthward finding in the dewy grass a compact computerized device: her cell phone. But what would her cell phone be doing so far from where her signal had originated? More importantly, where was she?

Optics forged millennia ago, shifted, narrowed, focused, finding within the woods irrefutable signs of trauma: broken twigs and branches here, crumpled leaves there, and grass turned soggy from being trampled, forming a path of sorts that led down, down, down.

_Primus protect you, little one… I will find you…I will bring you home, safe..._

At the moment, only the birds and insects were witness to the titan who walked so gently, carefully within the midst of the forest. Moving far more fluidly than one would have expected for such an intimidating frame, the metal leviathan began the search…

…_I will find you, little one…_

**#**

Tossed and tumbled about as though she were no more than a rag doll, all Annabelle could do was try to fold her arms over her head and neck protectively. To winded to scream or shriek, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she'd come to some sort of a stop sooner rather than later. The slope seemed to stretch on and on, abating only as it slowly leveled out into a wide clearing, finally depositing the rumpled teenager in a heap what seemed like miles away from the campsite. Well, at least if Optimus found her here they wouldn't have to worry about anyone accidently seeing him.

With a huff of pain and relief, Annabelle allowed herself the luxury of a few minutes to just lay still, arms stretched akimbo against the earth, the cold of the ground soaking into her back as she looked once more up into the night sky. Slowly she ran a mental check of her limbs, testing each muscle to make sure that she hadn't broken anything. Soreness here, stiffness there, bruised but not broken was her final conclusion. Aching, she stood, attempting to peer through the blue gray haze of night. No familiar markings, nothing she could recognize.

"Well…scrap..." Annabelle peaked up at the stars again, deciding, judging, wondering if just maybe she was closer to where those orange lights had hovered.

The land was clear here, open and wide, a bald patch where the tree line circled. Slowly she turned 'round and 'round, feeling the grass, now dry and scratchy beneath her feet, more twig and gravel than grass really. By some small miracle her shoes had remained with her; grateful, she slipped them back on. Now all she needed was her cell phone... Dutifully she began to trudge around the small clearing, hands combing the earth, eyes riveted to only the small patches of ground that passed directly in front of her. It didn't take long to realize that her phone was indeed gone, landed in a bird's nest for all she knew.

Now her nerves rose, fluttering and anxious, the reality of her situation closing in around her, stifling. No cell phone, no connection to the outside world; without it her one lifeline to help—to Papa Bot—was snapped.

Shoulders tight and tense, Annabelle crossed her arms in the chill, regarding the hill she had tumbled down. She could head back, climb it and...and what? Walk back into camp? Explain how-

_Thump._

Annabelle jumped, eyes immediately flitting from shadow to shadow.

_Thump...thump..._

It sounded like heavy footfalls, heavier than perhaps anything that normally

called the forest home.

_Thump...thump...thump..._

Annabelle strained her ears, spirits lifting.

_Thump...thump..._

Was that soft whisper, the clatter of metal panels as well?

"Papa Bot?" her voice rose, filling the air as she headed toward the welcome sound. She didn't care if he was mad, didn't care if he had already told her Dad where she had gone or what she had done, at the moment she was just glad he was here.

_Thump, thump..._

"Optimus?" having received no answer, her voice trembled, unsure now.

_Thump..._

By this time she had already edged her way back into the woods, looking...looking...looking...until she peaked around one tree—and found herself looking up into a pair of burning orange optics. Two realizations came crashing down upon her all at once: how very, very alone she was and how this hulking figure, all edges and angles of shadow, was _not_ Papa Bot.

In that moment she froze, her senses scattered to the wind and only when those orange eyes began to loom closer, moving toward her did she have the sense enough to scream.


	5. I Want To Believe

**A/N: Sorry for the unexpected break, dear reader!  
><strong>

**As always, please oh pretty please R & R! Your reviews are made of sunshine and gumdrops and both Bumbee and I have a sweet tooth! ;) **

**~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee  
><strong>

**###  
><strong>

It was the vibrations of the being's steps that finally snapped Annabelle out of her shock. Stumbling she turned, her brain screaming a chorus of..._Run! Run! Decepticon! Run! Run! Decepticon! Run..._

But, it was quicker than she was and with more speed than she expected, it darted around her, cutting her off. Another breathless shriek and she tripped over her own feet trying to avoid it, instead only managing to fall with a solid thump of her own. With her heart up in her throat, Annabelle thought this was her end and squeezed her eyes shut, shielding herself with her arms, waiting for the Decepticon to crush her, waiting for the pain...

Waiting...

Waiting...

But nothing happened.

Tentatively she opened her eyes, finding that the Decepticon was still there, seemingly waiting as well. It looked at her, studying, curious and yet made no move to touch her. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Annabelle slowly stood, surprised when it shuffled back half a step, away from her.

"T-that's right! Y-you better back off Decepticon!" her voice sounded anything but strong as she continued, "Optimus Prime will be here any minute!"

Like a bird it cocked its sharply angled head at her, as if listening. But it made no indication that her words had any impact or significance.

"Didn't you hear me? The Prime is on his way! So you better get out of here, or else...or else..."

Nothing, the Decepticon didn't stir, didn't seemed alarmed in any way. It struck her then, the very real possibility that maybe _just maybe_, he couldn't understand her. Still all nerves and fear, Annabelle didn't linger long over such a thought and instead, goaded by adrenaline, acted impulsively. Stamping her foot, she snapped instead, "Go away!"

Just as she had hoped, the Deception took several more steps away from her, as if he feared her outburst. Though, still he remained silent. As he shuffled away from her, he backed towards the clearing, standing no longer amongst the trees and shadows but now out in the open, allowing for Annabelle to at last get a clear look at him. Even in the gloom she could see that something wasn't right about its frame. Fragile looking, fluid metal lines, tracery of burnished gold and bronzes touched each limb, flowing over the narrow torso. No thick defensive panels or plating, nothing so bulky or weighty. No bits or pieces that looked to emulate human cars or planes which would indicate an alternate mode. Thick veins of tubing exposed, pulsing with a brilliant orange emulsion, threaded through delicate forearms and double-jointed knees. But what struck her the most was how...organic the creature's frame was. So unlike the Autobot's weathered panels and plates, there were no gears, no servos, no welded joints. Rather, his spindly looking limbs and narrow chest seemed to be covered in a metal skin that flowed and shifted, rippling eerily with his each movement.

Now it was she who watched him, studying such a strange sight before her. Remaining as still as she could, Annabelle drank the sight of him in, like nothing she had ever seen before, it was as though someone had taken an Autobot—or Decepticon for that matter—and simply stripped away all of their protective bulk and armor to expose something more fragile beneath. Not just more fragile, but more _alive_ looking; liquid metal poured over a bipedal frame to form a skin like no other.

Encouraged by Annabelle's sudden stillness, it leaned slightly forward, bringing its jawless countenance closer. Annabelle stiffened, didn't dare to move; just because this thing was like no Decepticon she had ever seen didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Long moments passed, those eyes watched her, narrowed, focusing in on her as it clicked to itself. From so close, Annabelle could see the yawning emptiness of where the jaw should have been, could see the metallic fibers that made up the maxilla twitch, as it seemed to consider her. As if coming to form a conclusion about her it suddenly leaned back, drawing up to its full height, then calmly, indifferently, it walked away. It was as though within the space of a heartbeat it had suddenly and completely forgotten about her. Continuing about its business, she watched as wordlessly it stepped away from her and choosing a patch of dirt at random placed a narrow palm on the ground, trailing seven needle sharp digits through the soil. It tilted its head down, as if listening, listening to the very earth...

Whatever it was doing, Annabelle had seen more than enough. Having found her alien, now she wanted nothing more than to be as far from it as possible. Glad that its focus was elsewhere, she slipped away as quietly as she could—it didn't seem as though it had a particularly acute sense of hearing anyway—cutting across the clearing as quickly as she dared. As she tried to put as much ground between it and her as possible, the creature's gaze lingered in the forefront of her mind. She had been scrutinized by Cybertronian optics before—how many times had she received 'the look' from Papa Bot? From Ratchet? From Bee even?—but there was something about that orange gaze, that glow, the pupil less…eyes? For there had been no lens, no gears, no optical mechanisms, of that she had been sure.

It wasn't until she had reached the base of the hill, really more of a cliff, that she dared to break into a run. Up, up, up scrambling, climbing, fingers digging into the dirt as she tried to get away. She had to get up this hill, get back to camp, borrow someone's cell phone, call Optimus, call him and tell him—

_Snap!_

Annabelle's grip on a wayward root slipped suddenly as it gave out, unable to hold her weight. Feeling herself falling backward through the air, she frantically slapped at the cliff side trying desperately to find another handhold. But already she could feel gravity's pull taking her and back down she fell. The air whistling in her ears, Annabelle shrieked, reflexively closing her eyes, curling in on herself, tensing, preparing for the impact.

Sooner than she thought, she felt something solid slip beneath her, cold and firm but instead of crashing against her, rather it moved with her, slowing, cushioning her descent, before stopping her all altogether. Stunned Annabelle's arms flew outward seeking to brace herself, it was when her palms hit a metal _something_ with a distinctive metal _clang_ that she dared to open her eyes, knowing that someone had caught her, had spared her from being dashed against the earth. Still being jostled about as the being who had caught her endeavored to reach level ground, Annabelle caught glimpses of brilliant orange, the sight of which caused her stomach to heave with nerves.

It was only when her eyes met blue optics that her bottom lip began to tremble, the preamble to tears, tears of relief.

"I have you, little one…are you alright?"

"Yes—no—I—don't—know—"

"Calm, little one, calm. " He brought her closer to his optic level; seeing her tears sent a surge of sorrow through his spark. No matter how displeased he was with her at the moment—and he was indeed decidedly less than happy with her—it still pained him to see her cry, for any reason. "All is well, little one, all is well…" He let his voice become low and gentle, velvet ushering honey dipped words of comfort. In was only after her heart regained its normal rhythm that he gingerly set her down on the ground. Taking a step back so as not to risk harming her, his transformation into his terrestrial guise was fluid and easy. She found immense comfort in the sound of clanking metal, shifting gears, panels snapping into place; it was a welcome and familiar sight, one that was so different from the creature she had seen. There were well-defined edges and corners, clear angles, scraps, scuffs and scars carved into so many plates and spaces. Each mark was reassuring, a well recognizable texture that she drew strength from.

Opening the passenger side door for her, his deep voice issued from within the cab, "Come, let us return you home…"

Her lips began to form the word "Ok", but her brain caught up to her tongue and silenced any assent. No matter how very badly she wanted to cower in his cab, wanted to feel safe and protected again, she couldn't just leave. Not without finding out more about the creature she had encountered. And if things turned violent…well, who better to protect her than Papa Bot?

So it was, finding her courage, she stepped up to him and promptly closed the door without getting in, "No…We can't just go back home, I found the alien!"

She didn't know what kind of response she was expecting from him at such a proclamation, but when he remained silent she continued on anyway, with the distinct impression that he was at least listening intently, "I found him…it?" she pointed eagerly to the cluster of trees on the opposite side of the clearing, "Anyways, he's over there! He, he must have landed his ship or something, but I found him! I don't know if he is a Decepticon or not, because when I told him you were coming he didn't seem like he understood—"

"Cease, Annabelle." Optimus' tone was firm, though not harsh.

"_No_." Hardly believing her own daring, Annabelle balled her hands into fists, "I'm not making this up! Look I know I'm probably in a lot of trouble with you and my Dad, but I know what I saw and Decepticon or not you can't just leave without—"

"_Enough."_

There was no arguing with _that_ tone; for as soothing as his voice had been moments before, it now bristled with all the terseness of a whip crack of lightening and Annabelle knew she had crossed a line. She had never stood up to Optimus before and now probably never would again. Chewing her lip, she watched anxiously as he transformed back into his bipedal form. Kneeling down before her, he fixed his cerulean optics upon her, one hand forming a fist that came down besides her, shielding her, separating her from the forest with gentle ferocity.

"No matter what transpires, Annabelle, whether we linger here longer or immediately return you to your dwelling, I must have your word that never again will you challenge any of my decisions; particularly if we are in an unfamiliar territory. Any choice that I make is for your benefit, for your safety. You may disagree with me, but you may not disobey me."

Timidly, but not completely cowed, she somehow still sought to press onward, "But—"

"—This is not an option or choice, Annabelle."

Humbled, her gaze slipped to the earth, "Yes, Papa Bot."

Tenderly, he shifted his hand, turning his fist upwards, holding out his palm to her, "Come here, sparkling." Once again, his tone was plush and velvet, all firmness gone as he looked on, watching as she clambered into his hand, obeying.

"This alien you spoke of…"

Sulky, she couldn't help but reply, "I'm not lying, I'm not making this up."

There was a long and considering silence, "You are certain of this...this sighting" It was not a question but a statement, one that Annabelle recognized not to respond to. Still holding her—perhaps not entirely trusting her to not run off should he put her back down—Optimus turned his gaze upon the surrounding trees. Now it was he who fell silent, optics glowing brighter as he reached out to his sensors, listening, scanning…

Feeling the sudden stillness of the great mech that held her, Annabelle wisely kept quiet, until, after long moments had elapsed, he once more focused upon her. "I am sorry little one, but I do not detect any energon readings."

"But, if it's not Cybertronian it wouldn't have any energon to read!"

He regarded her sternly, "This means much to you, indeed."

"Please, you must believe me! I know what I saw, and whatever this thing is we need to be sure it isn't dangerous." It was precisely the right sentiment to appeal to; one that she knew would resonate with him.

Servos breathing an Autobot sigh, he gave in, but not before ensuring her cooperation, "Annabelle," his deep timber rattled her bones, "Remember what I said, remember your promise. Whatever command I give, you must follow it."

"I will."

"Annabelle—"

"What? I said, I will, I will!"

"If I tell you to run, you must run. If I tell you to stay put, you are not to move, understood?"

With the whisper of an adventurous spirit returning, a ghost of a smile began to tug at the corners of her lips, "Understood, Papa Bot!"

"Very well, let us go look for this creature of yours then."


	6. Hard Truths

**A/N: Sorry about the lengthy absence, dear reader! Bumbee and I have been working on completing many of the other stories we have going, stories that have been neglected for far too long-in example, _De Cinere_-but no worries, _U.F.O _ will not be forgotten either. **

**** A quick shout out to all those who have been following us so faithfully, and who have been so patient with our slow updates (you know who you are!) Bumbee and I wanted to pause and say thank you, thank you, thank you! Dear readers you are all so amazing and for whom we truly enjoy writing for.****

**~~~Epsilon Pax & Bumbee  
><strong>

**P.S. Reviews are most welcome! **

**###  
><strong>

Annabelle watched as trees whipped by, mere humble human hand spans from her face. There was the snap of twigs and branches as they yielded beneath the titan's steps as he carried her closer and closer toward the unknown. Yet as the foliage blurred into patches of greens and browns, she was not afraid. Plunging into the night, into the forest once more, Optimus' long stride reduced what were great distances to her, into nothingness. Yet as they moved forward, she felt sheltered, protected as she knelt in his palm; she had every confidence not just in him, but in her heartfelt belief that so long as he was there she would not, could not come to any harm. It made that alien unknown, all the less frightening.

Still, it was perhaps sooner than she had expected when they regained the same location where Annabelle had first sighted the creature. Optimus slowed, coming to a standstill, taking in their surroundings; she could hear the soft click and sigh of gears as he no doubt scanned the area. Never one to act rashly or without great consideration, she knew he was not just flooding the area with scans, but he was feeling it out, not only with sensors, but with instinct. Quiet descended between them and she couldn't help but fidget. But Optimus was listening, listening to the void of stillness that had surrounded the stand of trees they lingered in now. No chirp of nightingales, no hum of insects, of small beasts going about their nightly business. There was nothing, and nothing moved.

How many times had he entered forests and found such a quiet? Found and realized that unnatural quiet had been because of him? Long years had the Autobots called Earth home now, and still the natural world seemed to fear them, unable to understand. Yet this quiet, the one that lay so thick around them now, was not because of him. No, there was a deeper, darker quality to it. The trees, the beasts, the land here had been witness to something, someone …different and had been startled, cowed into silence.

"Papa Bot…?"

"Hush, little one."

The words were soft, as close to a whisper as an Autobot could come. He moved to kneel then, one knee pressing into the soft earth as he brought the hand that cradled her closer to his chassis. The ground was only a short drop away, a mere handful of feet really and yet he did not put her down. She stood then, walking to the edge of his palm and peering over his fingertips. Her hands, butterfly wings, fragile and soft, fluttered over the metal, long accustomed to the grooves and creases that marred the hard surface. It was only when his fingertips curled reflexively inwards, the movement ever so slight, that the unsettling realization dawned on Annabelle: he did not want to put her down. A chill filled her limbs and heart and she stepped away from it, back toward the safety of the center of his palm. Whatever he was listening for, looking for now was concerning him enough that he did not want to let her roam the forest floor, even for a moment.

Carefully he reached out with his other hand, touching the earth, digits grazing over the soil. There just beneath his fingertips was a cluster of scratches, carved furrows in the ground. Clear and well defined, not as though something had been digging, but rather as though someone had collected a sample. He lifted his gaze, scanning once again for any trace of energon, but just as before, the reading came back with the same answer: nothing. Whatever it was that Annabelle had encountered was not Cybertronian; of that he could be sure. But why then could he not dismiss her words? Was it not equally plausible that she had merely let her imagination run away with her? No…he concluded, to doubt her was not only unfair, but it was the easy path to take. It would be easy to deny her words, but to turn away from the truth behind them would be dangerous. She had encountered something, someone not from Earth. He knew it within his processor, within his spark, not because of data but rather because of the tension that he felt, the tension that lingered within the trees.

Even from where he knelt he could discern other patches, other areas in which the ground had been disturbed, more clusters of scratches in the soil. They formed a trail between the trees, a trail that he could follow with little difficulty. His gaze fell to the curious pattern of scratches in the soil, sections of calculated cross-hatching several feet in diameter. It would be so easy to wipe the odd marks away, to forget them, to even deny the very sight before his optics. After all, those brittle lines drawn in the dirt were still smaller than his palm, smaller…and familiar. He knew this pattern, recognized it just as he had recognized that they had not been idly laid. The creature that had made them, had taken samples indeed. But the focus, the intent had not been upon the fauna or foliage, nor the woods or the creatures that inhabited it, but rather the concern had been with the very ground, the very earth itself.

Glowing orange eyes, Annabelle had told him, angry embers burning in the night…

No angles or edges to a frame, but a metal exterior, a metal skin that rippled with movement, with life in a way that no Autobot's tough plated exterior could…

Patterns in the earth…

No traces of energon…

Memory banks stirred, providing him with an answer he did not like, did not want to accept. Dread filled him.

"Optimus…?"Annabelle's voice waivered, uncertain as doubt began to gnaw at her, for even in the gloom she had recognized that he was unsettled. Glad of the plates that glided his face, concealing his expression, Optimus turned his luminous gaze upon her. The soft glow of the blue light danced across her features; so young, so innocent, so fragile. Bleached of color, under the ethereal light of his optics she was a whisper of life just beginning.

_I defend… I protect…_

"It is all right, little one…" Though it was not the truth, it was not a lie either. Rather, it was a promise, because if his suspicious were correct things were indeed not right. But for all that the Autobots had given, had sacrificed, for all those he had lost, for all those he held near to his spark…for his little one, he would _make_ things all right.

Gently, reluctantly, he lowered her to the forest floor, away from the markings, not wishing her to be close to them, to be sullied by what they stood for. "Annabelle," he let his timber become deep, demanding of her attention, "Remember your promise, whatever happens this night, whatever you see, you must do exactly as I instruct."

He saw the muscles in her throat overwork themselves, he sensed her heart rate increase, "What is going to happen…?"

"You are going to remain here, until I return for you—"

Fear flooded her eyes, "Wait, you're leaving me—!"

"You will not move from this spot—"

"Opti—"

"Here, you will be safe, and here you will remain out of sight."

Her body was tight with tension, her breath sharp and shallow, "Y-you can't leave me—"

He broke her gaze with her then, shifting his head to look away, look towards the trail he would follow. So he did not see, did not expect it when she moved, surging forward, her arms reaching up, fingertips catching the underside of his jaw, pulling down with as much force as her tiny frame could muster. Surprised he looked back down at her as she craned her neck back, hands still hooked resolutely onto the underside of his jaw as she looked up into his great countenance. There was fear within her, yes, but there was determination also. So though her voice still trembled when she spoke, there was still strength to be found within it as well.

"You can't just leave me…" She began, "And you have to tell me the truth."

"Annabelle—" His voice rumbled up through her arms, though she had listened to that welcome thunder all her life, never had she felt the power of it in such a way, as a physical vibration.

"I was right, wasn't I? There is something out there, something alien and something bad?"

He could not lie to her, "Yes."

Her breath hitched, but her grip did not falter, "Worse than Decepticon bad?"

"If I am correct in my suspicions…yes." He shifted, pulling his jaw out of her reach, breaking her hold but not pulling away from her. She remembered then that he was not just her Papa Bot, he was Optimus, he was the Prime, and he was the leader of the Autobots. To say that Annabelle's fear was not renewed would be a lie, but Annabelle was a Lennox, she was her father's daughter. So it was when reality closed hard in about her, she rose to the challenge. Inside she wanted to run to her Papa Bot, wanted to be sheltered, protected by him, wanted to hear soothing nothings from him. Instead, she found her voice to ask, "Will you…can you fight it? Whatever it is…can you beat it? Can you win?"

"Violence is not always the answer."

"_That_ isn't an answer." She snapped right back. Adrenaline fluttered up and down her spine as she wondered, wondered if whatever lingered in the woods around them was not the start of something new, of an obstacle like her Uncle Sam had once to overcome. He had climbed into the car then…could she?

"I want to know the truth—"

"As do I, and until I, myself learn what is the truth here, I cannot give you the answer you seek. You must trust me, Annabelle. Trust me and do as I ask you to. Remain here, stay hidden and you will be safe." He stood then, a living leviathan of antiquity, battled hardened and world weary, "I will return for you."

When her eyes grew glossy, threatening with tears, he knelt once more, gently guiding her with his fingertips to the shadow of a large tree. Once she had settled herself among its gnarled roots, he lightly rested a single digit upon her shoulder, "I will return for you, little one." He let his words carried to her in the deep cadence of his timber settle, let her take comfort in the finality of his promise, "I will return for you, little one." Though, scarcely had she nodded in understanding did he once more draw away, turning toward the strange marks, toward the path that would lead him to a being he was coming to dread more than Megatron in his most formidable of states. For it was not the creature that he dreaded, but it was the implication of such a beings presence that he feared.

_Veyron._

He knew the name, knew the species, knew the culture, knew their beliefs. A strange collection of sentient beings that had centered their entire identity around their planet. Where Cybertron was precious to the Autobots and Decepticon's alike, for the Veyron their home was worshiped. _Veyron_. Yes, he knew them. Just as he also knew that the reclusive metalloid beings only ventured out from their home planet to seek out worlds that were dying. Not just dying…but lost, beyond saving, irreparable…

It had been many long centuries since Optimus had truly fulfilled his duties to his species' creator, yet now he paused, reaching within his spark, within the matrix itself to send up a fervent prayer. _Primus, help us all…_

The Veyron's presence heralded the death throes of a world, but Optimus would not, could not accept that he had endured to see Earth's last of days.


	7. Draw the Line

_There were no stars, no reassuring heavenly illumination anymore. All was__choked into shades of gray by the smoke of war. _

_The day had been a long one, another battle in what seemed to be an endless siege. Megatron and his forces had pushed them hard this time, determined to break the lines, to shatter their defenses and take Iacon for his own. But the Autobots had held and it would seem Iacon was theirs at least for another day. With energon supplies running so thin on both sides, Megatron had been forced to pull his soldiers back, wanting to conserve what stock remained. So it was that the Autobots had been granted the reprieve of one night. Though with Ratchet, Wheeljack and Perceptor frantically working from bot to bot, struggling to keep sparks online, to repair any and all that they could in whatever way they could, Optimus found little comfort in the absence of battle. Even in the quiet of this night, how well he knew not all of his Autobots would survive to see the dawn. _

_Trusting Ironhide and Prowl to keep order, Optimus had left the main camp behind; perhaps it was selfish, certainly dangerous at the very least. After all, being the last of the Primes always meant he was a target, at risk wherever he went; even when among his most trusted allies, the Prime's safety could never be assured. Wandering alone was to openly court chance, yet tonight these things meant little to Optimus, tonight—whatever the odds or statistics—he needed the solitude. Tonight there was no battle plans to draw up, no new tactics to discuss. At this point in the war, the battle was raw, brutal and simple: keep Iacon out of Decepticon grasp…by any means necessary. _

_Moving quietly for a mech of his size, Optimus wandered the empty streets of the once blooming metropolis. Save the borderlines that had been drawn by battle, all was deserted, empty, forsaken. Once beautiful complexes had been abandoned, rusting into disrepair. Peaceful citizens had become warriors just as these homesteads had been reduced to first tactical positions and then, inevitably, ruin and rubble. Wending through the maze of streets, the Prime easily recognized dwellings of friends and foes, so many of whom had already fallen, sparks departing this war-torn world to become one with the Allspark. _

_The silence began to hem him in, no respite to be found out here where the streets were cold and empty; where the abandoned remnants of one of their most treasured cities haunted and mocked him now. Turning a corner, paying little heed to where his steps led him, Optimus found his gaze hitched on a nearby wall. Really, it was no different than any of the surrounding buildings, in that it too was fallen into neglect. A once beautiful pattern and layering of varying alloys now flaked with rust, pock marked and riddled with scorch trails from ion cannon fire and plasma grenades. _

_So why had it caught his optic? Why did it seem to demand his attention in such an unflagging and consuming way? _

_There, under what little light there was, Optimus could just discern deep scratches, even grooves that had been worked into the metal. Moving closer he reached out, tentatively, unsure, tracing the patch of cross-hatched markings. These were not idly laid nor accidently made, of that he was sure. The longer he lingered there, the more patches of markings he began to discern. Never continuous but broken into clusters they stretched away into the darkness, forming a pattern, a path. _

_A path to where? To what? _

_That was when he saw it. Burning optics, not Decepticon red or Autobot blue, but defiant orange._

###

"I know you." Optimus let his voice precede him into the stand of trees. Here, amid the tangle of trunks and leaves the night was deep, cavernous black. Branches slick with darkness slapped against his armor revealing his position before he emerged into the slender clearing; no matter, it was not likely that the other being had been unaware of his presence, of his approach. Now, as eons ago, this other, this Veyron had also lain in wait. "I know you." Optimus intoned once more, not quite a challenge, but certainly in an endeavor to summon the other forward, to call him out.

There was an answering, considering click of metal mandible fragments.

"I know you as I know your kind." Optimus called, careful, careful to keen his voice even, calm, composed.

"As I you, Prime of Cybertron."

It had not taken Optimus long to follow the grid patterns, indented within the soil, to their conclusion. Orange eyes, not optics, _eyes_ watched him now, regarded him impassively. Optimus would never deny who he was, least of all to the being that now stood before him, shadowed comfortably in the moon shade of an ancient tree. So it was that he stepped forward, keeping his movements slow and steady. Violence would win him nothing here, not with this one.

"Eridanus." Optimus let thunder reign in his tone, wanted the other to feel and recognize the power he still stood for, still harbored.

"Your memory is as long as mine, Prime of Cybertron."

"You may address me by name, You know it well enough—"

"I care not what your individual designation is. It matters not to me which Prime you are, only that you are indeed a Prime of Cybertron."

"Why?"

Orange eyes narrowed, harsh, unyielding, unkind.

"Why does it matter to you that I am a Prime of Cybertron?"

"It matters to me when I am addressing an individual whom I may hold responsible for eons of senseless violence."

Cobalt optics focused in, sharp and keen, "You speak of our arrival to this planet and—"

"I speak of the Great Cybertronian Wars. I speak of the violence of one species against itself. Of the needless slaughter of a race of beings, of a culture pushed to the brink of extinction by itself."

Here it was, the grudge that Eridanus, and through him the Veyron, had always borne against Cybertron and its people. Optimus had expected this, feared it not because he could not face Eridanus' anger. No, he feared that it would color Eridanus' judgment against what mattered now…Earth hung in the balance as Cybertron once had. He would have to choose his words carefully, gently, he would have to turn Eridanus' mind away from anger. "Though such violence cannot be easily forgotten, the Great Wars were fought eons ago—"

"Your memory is as long as mine, Prime of Cybertron." Eridanus' voice, his words were mocking, lilting.

Anger tipped Optimus voice now, "I will not be held to the ghosts of the past in this way, Eridanus. You will tell me why you are here, why journey to Earth now—"

"—This is not your planet." The cutting response was terse, a condemnation.

"Nor is it yours."

Another refrain of answering clicks as Eridanus sidled sideways through the shadows. Optimus had never known the Veyron to ever stand forthright in the light. He, like Megatron, had always seemed to prefer the darkness.

"What are you doing here, Eridanus? Why come here, Earth has no interest for you or your species, nor will it for some time." Iron will coursed through Optimus' timber, ordinarily fiercely gentle, now it was stripped of its velvet undertones and resounded as anything but gentle and only fierce.

"You are no longer the young mechanism you once were," Eridanus spoke at last, "how long now have you _led_ your people as Prime?" Scorn dripped from his pronunciation.

"Eridanus—"

"Is it a requirement of your office, of the Primes, to always invoke such violence? Such chaos? Such bloodshed? Is it expected of the Prime to leave destruction wherever they venture? Or does that just come naturally to you?"

"_Enough!"_

"The ages have not diminished your temper, have they Prime of Cybertron?"

Optimus steeled himself, thought of Annabelle who depended on him; he could not succumb to his dislike of Eridanus, could not give in to his anger.

"But the ages have diminished _you_, haven't they?" An orange gaze flitted over his frame, taking in his terrestrial guise, the flashes of color, of red, of blue, of orange flames. "Ah, how splendid you once stood, Prime. I remember your true Cybertronian frame…that, that was impressive…but this?" There was a cascade of chiding clicks, "To reduce yourself to _this_? I find my attention drifting from being spoken to by such an obviously lesser being…like the lesser beings of this planet."

"This planet is our home now—"

"That would explain—" another derisive glance, "much of your—reduced—state, then Prime."

"No matter the form my frame takes, my station has never changed or altered …just as yours has not either." He knew it was too easy to be baited by Eridanus, knew that it was a risk to remind Eridanus of what he did not have, of what he would never have. Much as he expected, the verbal barb hit its intended mark and Eridanus hissed in displeasure. "My people have always had a Prime to lead them…my spark morns for Veyron who has yearned for a Typhon to similarly lead them."

"I am what Veyron needs—!"

"No, Eridanus. I know as well as you, that you are not Veyron's Typhon. You do not lead them as I lead my people. Just as you do not speak for Veyron's will as I speak for Primus'." It was the one weakness, the one wound that Eridanus always harbored. Their species looked to the Typhon for guidance, much like Cybertron looked to their Prime; and no matter how much Eridanus hungered for it, he would never, could never rise as Typhon; that line of leadership had died out millennia ago. Optimus had only just ascended to the office of Prime, had in fact met Veyron's final Typhon. Venulus. Eridanus himself had helped with Venulus' design and construction. But it was not to be, Venulus' long awaited leadership was cut short, taking with him his peoples' last hope. Now, Veyron limped on, leaderless, weakened.

Optimus had always hoped that for a race so similar to their own—for a race who owed so much to their creator as Cybertronians did to Primus—that the Veyron would have been able to exist peaceably with Cybertron and its people. Yet, as the years had taught him, there was one irreconcilable difference that yawned between the two species. The Veyron, blessed with a long enduring existence, were rational to the point of coldness. They did not and would not sympathize with any other species in the universe, but held themselves apart, above it all. Though a relatively peaceful culture—one that was lamentably more so than the Cybertronian's—they focused on saving their dying planet with a single-minded intensity that eclipsed all others. That intent had allowed them to succeed in sustaining Veyron for eons now; succeeding where the Cybertronian's were failing. Though Optimus had never approved, had been repulsed even, by the means they had devised for doing so.

That Eridanus was here, now, caused his spark to clench with fear. So it was that Optimus could only hope to stop Eridanus before he began.

_###_

"_Why are you here, Veyron?"_

"_Do you not see, Prime of Cybertron? Your planet is dying, it shudders in its final death throes beneath your feet."_

"_No."_

_The other being tilted his countenance, the outline of which smudged under the gloom, impossible to perceive complete, defining edges in the darkness. "No?" it echoed._

"_No." Optimus would not, could not hear such words a stranger offered, "We will save Cybertron, I will not give up hope, she is not lost, not yet." _

"_Yield." The other commanded, and there issued from the darkness a cascade of clicks, of clatters as the one called Eridanus drew himself up to his full intimidating height. His citrine eyes burned with scorn as he towered several unnerving feet over Optimus, "Yield to my logic, Prime of Cybertron. Yield to the superior logic of Veyron. Cybertron will fall…already she suffers—" There was a shuffling sound as the Veyron stepped toward Optimus, still not quite out of the darkness, but closer than before, "—Yield her core, give life to Veyron. We will merge Cybertron's core with Veyron's, Cybertron will cease to be, but she will sacrifice, will give her last surge of energy so that Veyron may endure for centuries more." _

_Horror flooded Optimus' circuits as he listened, but Eridanus continued before he could muster the will to speak, "It is not logical to fight to protect what cannot be saved. Cybertron will not survive, you and your senseless war have seen to that. Cybertron is beyond help, but Veyron is not. Your people no longer need Cybertron, but my people…we cannot exist without Veyron—"_

"_Cybertron is our home! She is my home! And I will not abandon her in her darkest hour! I will not condemn her for the salvation of your planet. There are other worlds in the universe, worlds that are uninhabited and linger upon the brink of death, seek out those worlds, those whose loss would not be so catastrophic." _

"_You cannot refuse me! You do not have the strength to defend—"_

"_Alone, no. I cannot defeat you. Even with all of the Autobots beside me, I might not be able to defend against the armies of Veyron. But have no doubt, that even despite our differences, Megatron would rally to the defense of Cybertron against a foreign threat. To keep Cybertron from your clutches we would fight together, and we would fight until our very last drop of energon was spilled. So ask yourself, Eridanus of Veyron, is our planet worth such strife? Will you bring war upon Veyron? For a war it would be." _

_With a warm, thick hum, Optimus onlined his plasma cannons. Eridanus was bigger, stronger, but his frame did not have an innate weaponry system. This gave the smaller Cybertronian's an edge over any Veyron; though a Veyron's armor was thick, any vital biomechanics shielded deep within the frame. _

_Eridanus eyed him askance with his culture's natural aversion to violence, coupled with the scorn of overconfidence. And it was not entirely misplaced; if Optimus' could not bring his weapons to bear quickly enough, Eridanus could easily tear him apart with his hands. _

"_Optimus!"_

"_My Prime!"_

"_Stubborn Slaggard!"_

_A chorus of familiar voices assailed Eridanus and Optimus; without turning, keeping his optics and weapons alike trained upon Eridanus, Cybertron's Prime merely waited as his Autobots arrived on the scene. A refrain of weaponry hummed to life, and Optimus recognized his friends and comrades merely by each distinctive weapon onlining: Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz. _

_Five against one. Even Eridanus would have to yield to the inevitable: if he engaged Optimus now, not even the Prime would be able to keep his warriors from joining the fray. _

"_Very well. Keep your precious Cybertron. She is nothing but ruins, all but useless to us, as she will be to you soon enough." _

###

A scornful clatter and rattle as Eridanus shifted, drawing himself up to his full height, "No reinforcements here. You are alone, Prime of Cybertron." The Veyron rasped a brittle laugh through his vocal processors. He flexed his powerful hands, the plating thick, edged razor sharp, capable of slicing through thinner, lighter Cybertronian armor with ease.

"Alone, yes." Optimus unsheathed his wrist blades with a keen metallic ring; they glowed a wicked orange, "But unlike yourself, Eridanus, I am no stranger to battle. If you would have Earth, as you once coveted Cybertron, you will have to take her from me."

# # #

**A/N: We know this one hasn't been updated in a while, but we hope you didn't mind the long wait too much! **

**Please R & R!**

**~~~Epsilon & BumBee**


End file.
